Four Times Hermione Surprised Draco (And One Time He Surprised Her)
by fairphantom
Summary: "Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks." - Samuel Johnson


**One**

He didn't think it would ever happen, but it did, eventually. The world shifted and began turning in the opposite direction. That was the only explanation Draco Malfoy could give for Hermione Granger - the Gryffindor Princess, the Brightest Witch of Her Age, the Most Likely to Wake Up One Day and Discover Her Hair Was Actually a Kneazle This Entire Time (a lengthy nickname, but one he'd come up with himself and was quite proud of, thank you very much) - _smiling _at him. Apropos of nothing. They'd been working at adjacent desks for the better part of a year, and never _once_ had she smiled at him.

Until now. And it made him instantly suspicious.

"Granger," Draco said warily. "Is there a particular reason you're sitting there grinning like a maniac?"

Hermione smirked. "Nope. Just being friendly." She directed her eyes back to the case file on her desk, resuming her reading as though nothing strange had just occurred at all. Draco stared at her for a moment more, and then, determining that maybe she _was _just trying to be friendly (or perhaps she had finally gone barmy, wouldn't be a surprise considering she still kept company with Potter and the Weasel), he set his briefcase down on his desk and settled into his chair.

"That, and your hair is sticking up in a most un-Malfoy way."

Draco whipped his head around, catching her full-beam smile as she continued reading.

**Two**

"Another Firewhiskey, please." Draco rolled his neck, but the crick didn't go away. It might never, considering the mountain of work he'd been under. Catching bad guys was never easy - catching bad guys with whom your family used to be associated was misery.

The glass appeared in front of him and he took a sip, relishing the burning in his throat and the faint buzzing in his head. He liked getting drunk slowly, feeling the world get fuzzy at the edges, until his thoughts became watery and less like a solid weight. He needed this, especially today. He was about to take another drink when a figure dropped down on the stool beside him, smelling of lavender and ink.

"Mind?" Hermione asked. "I'll have what he's having," she said to the bartender.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing here, Granger?" He glanced at his watch. "It's well past your bedtime."

She grinned. "Well, let's just say I couldn't sleep and leave it at that, eh?" When her drink arrived, she knocked it back in one gulp. Draco couldn't help but be (the tiniest bit) impressed. "Why are _you _here? Shouldn't you be out with friends, or something?" She looked at him like she already knew the answer, a habit of which he was not particularly fond.

Shrugging, Draco focussed his attention on the amber liquid in his glass. "Didn't feel like company." He slid his eyes pointedly at her. She ignored him. Deliberate dismissal of information she didn't find to be relevant. Another habit he found grating.

"I know what you mean," Hermione said, nodding sagely (annoyingly). "But I thought I'd find you here, so I might as well…" Her voice became muffled as she dug into her tiny bag, her arm disappearing up to the shoulder. She called it her 'Mary Poppins' bag, but Draco didn't know what that meant. He didn't care enough to ask, either.

"Here." She placed a small box on the bar, then stood up abruptly. "Happy birthday, Malfoy."

Draco was still staring at the box when she left. Gingerly, he pulled it closer, noting that it wasn't even wrapped. It was just a small, white box, betraying nothing of its contents. He opened it. Inside was a slip of paper. In her precise, tiny handwriting (_impossibly_ tiny, he always had to squint and he just knew it was going to give him premature wrinkles), Hermione had written: "Entitles you to the winning of one (1) argument. Expires on your next birthday."

It was suddenly the best birthday Draco could remember in quite some time. He didn't even mind that he ended up having to pay for her drink.

**Three**

"I don't think I will ever understand why you people get so worked up over quidditch."

Draco froze, his gray eyes swiveling over to her. "Are you serious?" he asked, looking at her incredulously. "First of all, what do you mean, '_you people_'? And secondly, what the bloody hell's wrong with quidditch?"

Hermione grinned. "Which question do you want me to answer first?"

Shaking his head, Draco turned his attention back his paperwork. He was busy putting the finishing touches on his latest case, and really had no time for this nonsense. "You're mental, Granger. Quidditch is the most amazing sport in the world. Period."

"Oh, I dunno about that," Hermione said. She was leaning back in her chair, and it was creaking noisily, and she was biting the corner of her lip in a most distracting way, and Draco _really had no time for this_.

"Obviously you know nothing about the game, then," Draco bit out, determined not to rise to her bait. Just because the bint had finished _her_ paperwork early…

"I suppose there's a valid point in there, somewhere." Hermione reached over and pulled something out of her desk drawer. "Would you be interested in educating me?"

Looking up, Draco saw that she was waving two tickets in her hand. He barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping. "Are you serious?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Stop asking me if I'm serious, and start telling me if you'd like to accompany me to the game tomorrow evening."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Who's playing?"

"You ungrateful…" Hermione sighed. "Chudley Cannons versus Falmouth Falcons. Yes or no?"

"Weasel's a Cannon!"

"So no?"

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched. "I suppose, Granger." He paused. "Even though you likely got those tickets for free."

"Prat."

Draco very narrowly avoided having Hermione see him smile.

**Four**

The walk to the apparition point was quiet, and Draco was starting to feel uncomfortable. Not in a _bad _way, necessarily, but he felt a nervous energy that he very much wanted to be rid of. He glanced to his left and saw Hermione, seemingly oblivious and obviously not feeling the same way. Well, fancy that.

It was just after 10pm, and they were leaving a dinner celebrating the promotion of Harry Potter to Head of the Auror Department. While Draco would have been perfectly happy skipping the entire thing, Hermione had harangued him until he'd finally given in (he'd tried using the voucher she'd given him for his birthday, but she had stated that it could not be used to circumvent activities that promoted team camaraderie, or some such, which was completely unfair but he really should have expected such underhandedness). They feasted, they drank, Draco had offered a curt congratulations - and now here he was, walking with Hermione and having the disturbing feeling that this was a date.

Which it wasn't. It had been a work-related event. That was all.

"Isn't it weird how this feels like a date?" Hermione asked, smiling up at him.

Bollocks.

Draco cleared his throat. The sound echoed in the stillness of the night, and only served to make him more self-conscious. He licked his lips, aware that Hermione was still looking at him. "I don't know what you're talking about, Granger." He turned his gaze straight ahead, determined to end the conversation (and stop feeling like a fool). "Maybe you had too much butterbeer."

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe."

They reached their destination, and to Draco's relief she moved ahead of him with a murmured "Good night."

But then she turned suddenly, and before Draco could blink Hermione had stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss directly on his mouth.

When it was over, he looked down. Hermione's eyes were soft. "I didn't have any butterbeer," she said quietly.

She apparated then, and Draco didn't think his heart had ever beat so fast in his life.

**One**

"What is this, Draco? I thought we agreed we wouldn't exchange any gifts?"

"I know. But I couldn't resist. Just open it."

"Well now I feel bad. If you'll just hold on to it, I'll pop out and -"

"No, Granger. Just open it, for Merlin's sake!"

"Alright, alright. Jeez, happy anniversary to you too."

Opening the small white box, Hermione saw a diamond ring and a slip of paper. On the paper, in Draco's meticulous cursive (almost feminine looking, she'd pointed out on one occasion, to which he'd retorted, rather rudely, that she wouldn't know the first thing about 'feminine'), he had written: "Entitles you to a lifetime with one (1) Draco Malfoy. Expires - never."

"Oh, Draco," she breathed.

They were married within the year.


End file.
